


England National Team - One shots

by Jessexmarcus



Category: Men's Football RPF
Genre: Chelsea FC, F/M, Football, Liverpool F.C., M/M, Manchester City, Manchester United
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-07
Updated: 2019-09-07
Packaged: 2020-10-12 01:14:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20555774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jessexmarcus/pseuds/Jessexmarcus
Summary: A group of random one-shots based around the England National Team. Some are based on real life situations, some are made up.





	England National Team - One shots

Jesse Lingard has come through a lot to play for Manchester United and England. Being told he was too small, too weak, not good enough and fought injuries in the beginning of his career playing in the first team. But he isn't sure much can come close in terms of the pain he feels when he lets his team, and supporters down.  
This season? It was meant to be their season. He'd had the best time of his life at the World Cup and felt like he did himself and all those who'd believed in himself proud. But it wasn't like that. Whatever worked in getting them to second the previous season, it hadn't worked this time. And then Jose had been sacked. They, obviously, new before anyone else did - and it had felt like he was the only one genuinely upset (other than Scott maybe). Jose wasn't working anymore, that much was clear, but he had been the manager to really believe in Jesse and had developed him into a player worthy of playing at Old Trafford. Ole then came in, and it was different. The mood of the entire club picked up, and everything became a bit more enjoyable. Two goals and an assist certainly wasn't a bad way to start of under Ole. So much had happened since that day in December. The run of form, Arsenal in the FA Cup, getting injured, missing international break, PSG, Ole getting job on a perminant, Wolves, and Wolves again, and then their shitty run of form since then proving that maybe they weren't quite proving that Machester was 'back' as Rio Ferdinand put it. 

But now? It felt like nothing would come close to the pain he was feeling. It felt like the World Cup was happening all over again. Walking back down the tunnel in Portugal, loosing to Holland. Head in his hands, all he could hear were the Holland fans. Memphis came over, offered his apologies - but it didn't change anything. He had the opportunity to change things, to win the game, and he couldn't. It just summed up everything that this season had been for him.

As he reached the dressing room, he realised that he was the last one in. The room was somber and people were looking at him, the team and Gareth. Walking across the room as quickly as possible to reach his place, he passed Gareth and said a small sorry before reaching his part of the bench and sitting. Trent was immediately there with his arm around him. Trent of all people. Trent had won the Champions League, this didn't matter. This was Jesse's chance at a trophy and a chance to prove himself.

'Jess, this isn't your fault. You were the best player on the pitch while you were on it.' Trent whispered.

Jesse simply shrugged as Gareth started going into the post match stuff. Wrapped up in his head the entire time, Jesse barely had it in him to pay attention. He caught eyes of Marcus, sat the other side of Trent and Hendo. Marcus smiled lightly at him trying to give him some sympathy. All Jesse wanted right now was to go onto the coach, sit next to Marcus, watch Peaky Blinders (which Marcus denies watching without him although Jesse sometimes catches him repeating the words) and pretend that none of this had happened. And that he was still worth a place on the team. 

Hearing his name being mentioned by Gareth, he listened back in and caught the end of what Southgate was saying.

'If Jesse had of scored the game may have been changed, but he didn't. And it didn't. And i expect to see a performance actually worthy of the England National Team.'

That was it, and Jesse didn't need to hear the rest to know what Gareth felt. The whole world would now have their eyes on him and their time of not winning anything and getting away with it would quickly run out. They had twenty minutes before they were due to be on the coach, and whilst Gareth, Harry and Marcus dealt with pressers and interview, Jesse gathered up his stuff as quickly as he possibly could - and left the room. He heard someone - he thinks it was Jadon - call after him. But as much as he loved the kid, he needed to be on his own and needed to relax. He had barely spoken since the end of the game, and as any of his teammates would say, if Jesse Lingard isn't talking, something is wrong and he doesn't want to talk to anyone. He had been like this too often recently. Starting with the World Cup Semi-Final. Spurs at home last season, Wolves, Manchester City, Liverpool, Barcelona, the list felt nearly endless. 

It was at times like this he couldn't help thinking of his critics. People have always wanted him to fail - and it seemed like with his social media presence and character growing, the list expanded massively. It always made him question if it was worth it. Everything he had sacrificed. He knew it was shallow of him. He was earning a large amount of money doing something he loved. But it hurt. And god he needed a hoilday, and probably a therapist at this point. He moved past the pressers and interviewers, catching eyes with the BBC reporter, before turning up the music coming out of his airpods although not even Drake could make him feel better at this point. 

Finally reaching the bus, he saw that he was the first person on it. Moving to the back, were he always sat with Marcus - Trent and Jadon on the other side - he sat by the window, turned off his music and allowed for himself to actually think. It didn't take long for tears to spring to his eyes and he let out a frustrated scream, punching the seat infront. 

'You okay?'

Marcus. The only person Jesse actually wanted to see. He looked up to see Marcus at the other end of the bus looking at him, frowning.

'Just cost the team the game. So no. Not really' 

'You? You think it was your fault? Not John's? or Barkley's?'

'That wouldn't have happened if I wasn't offside.'

Marcus sighed deeply, and walked towards the back of the bus. 

'Jesse. Look at me. For fuck sake mate are you ever not blaming youself? It is not your fault. John Stones is a professional defender. For the league champions. It is his fault. Not yours.'

Jesse simply looked at Marcus and nodded. Rashy stared at him for about five seconds, before shuffling the rest of the way to the back of the bus. He sat down next to Jesse, and put his arm around him. 

'Your never alone Jesse. As much as you may want to be sometimes. I'm always here for you, to support and look after you.'

'I'm the Oldest. Aren't I meant to be looking out for you?'

'I don't think you've stopped doing that since we met. I think it's only fair I repay you.'

Neither said much else as Jesse rested his head on Marcus' shoulder and closed his eyes. 

'Love you, Jess' was all he heard as he drifted off to sleep. 

Well, that along with Raheem from infront of them shouting 'Get a room'.

Jesse just smiled and closed his eyes. Things would be okay.


End file.
